It lies deep. And in the morning it surfaces, there, in the forefront of my head. Today I am wracked by it. It has taken over my back, my neck and reaches down to my legs. I am rigid, sharp-edged, snappy. He understands. And I think he does. There is nothing else to do but keep going on, trying to find my way through this writing to a place of safety. Outside it pours. Duck weather, they used to say.
